Chương 92: Chapter Ninety Two

Elanor Blackstone stood on the bridge of the Brimstone and watched another flight of damaged shards returning to rearm. Few were without some level of damage. Some were already sporting patches on their flight surfaces from damage sustained in previous sorties. One was leaking aether from dozens of ragged bolt-holes and seemed to be being guided in by little more than hopes, dreams, and every ounce of the pilot's skill.

Though it would remain to be seen whether that would save the craft, she watched it disappear from beyond her view. She knew without having to look that there'd be a small horde of sailors armed with grappling lines, long-hooks and even nets working to pull the craft inside. Before they could drift away – or fall. It had happened more than once already and would likely happen again before the battle was done. To think, she'd laughed when she first saw the South's vaunted Jellyfish.

The vaunted 'saviour of the Capital' had looked like little more than a rushed hack job. An initial impression made all the worse in her eyes by the fact that it had an oversized flat deck bolted onto a hull that had in no way been designed for it. She'd later learned why it had such a thing – that the pseudo-shards Redwater had built needed them to land – had done little to change that initial impression either. If anything, it had lowered her opinion of the shards as well.

Now though, hearing report after report of her own pilots struggling to dock alongside the Brimstone's flanks – with queues forming at times - she couldn't help but wonder if the ugly flat top design wasn't worth considering. Yes, there would still likely be queues for the… deck elevator, but at least she wouldn't have to worry about her damaged returning shards literally dropping out of the sky while they awaited their opportunity to be brought aboard. She sighed, gripping her armrests of the command throne.

The docking issues were just one amongst many that had come to the surface for her flagship over the last few hours. Issues that had never arisen during its first real baptism by fire against the orcs years ago, or the handful of skirmishes it had taken part in since the invasion of the South began. No, the Brimstone was revealing issues that only become apparent when pushed to his absolute limits. … Though her command ship wasn't exactly alone in that.

Her alliance with New Haven and the fact that their 'united' fleet was technically two fleets with two different command structures definitely wasn't helping. Indeed, while the Brimstone was, rather wisely, too far from the action to be seen and thus targeted, the viewing orb in front of her meant she could still watch the battle unfold and bark out the appropriate orders. Which was why she was able to watch and scowl as a New Haven airship overextended and was immediately punished by three Royal Naval airships.

The same type that continued to impede her fleet's shards – as they continuously poured out long 'strings' of fire from some kind of new weapon affixed to their decks. Admittedly, after realizing what those new weapons were, they'd become more of an irritant to her shards than a true threat. Though the same could not be said for any Saboteurs attempting to board those ships. New Haven had learned that lesson the hard way. Though one wouldn't think so given how hard they're still pushing, she thought. …

And that was a problem, because the more time passed, the more Elanor had to come to admit that she and her fellow Northern duchess had been lured into a trap. Because the Southerners weren't running. Even as more ships continued to stream in from distant flotillas, Tyana – for it could only be her on the other side – refused to back down. If anything, she too was summoning reinforcements of her own. And so, what had begun as a relief action had become a meat-grinder. One that didn't favor the North.

Which shouldn't be the case! Even after the recent setbacks and the steady bleeding of hulls to the South's new toys, the combined Northern fleets remained superior in quality and, on paper, in total strength. That superiority was why they dictated the tempo of the war while the South remained largely on the defensive, practically banished to a corner of the continent. Under any normal circumstances, the Northern fleet would win any kind of pitched engagement. …

The problem was that the battle didn't have the Northern fleet. It had part of it. The rest was still trickling in. By contrast, nearly the entire Royal Navy was here now – with elements of Summerfield and Southshore too on second line duty. In this single battle, the Royal Navy had the numbers advantage. And it was using it to deadly effect.

"She's trying to hand us a defeat in detail," Elanor murmured as she sat back in her chair. … Which had always been a risk. Originally she'd kept her besieging flotillas small to make it impractical for the Royal Navy to gain any real dividends by going after any one group. Then, when the Shriekers entered the picture, she'd grouped them into fleets large enough both to protect from the new Super-Shards, but also big enough that they'd be able to fend for themselves until the reserve fleet relieved them.

And I thought I'd accounted for what we'd do if Tyana brought out a force strong enough to beat both the flotilla and our reserve fleet, she thought. If that occurred, the plan was supposed to be for the combined reserve fleet and flotilla to engage in a fighting retreat until such time that reinforcements could arrive in sufficient numbers to achieve parity. If the enemy pursued them, they'd be left vulnerable and surrounded when reinforcements arrived.

Or they'd let her retreating fleet leave and achieve little beyond wasting time. It had been a good plan. But one that failed to account for a new variable. Shriekers, Elanor thought venomously. She had no idea if that bitch Yelena planned for this, but it seemed that once again she'd played right into the knife-ears' hands. Shriekers were an enormous threat to airships. A salvo of fire-lances could cripple two or even three ships if placed correctly. In short, they were a threat she couldn't ignore.

And so she'd launched her Howlers to protect the flotilla from them. That had been her mistake. She'd thought of them as easily replaced. And they were. So long as one recovered the core. Which was normally quite easy, with the enemy quitting the field every time her flotilla received reinforcements. … Except Tyana didn't do that. She stayed to fight. Which meant that nearly a dozen airship cores had found themselves scattered across the fields below the battle in the opening hour of the fight.

Wars had been fought over less - and those fields were now as filled with death as the air above them, as roaming teams of mages and marines battled to recover the priceless metal artifacts. As a result, Elanor found herself stuck in a position where she couldn't retreat. Not without leaving a near-priceless bounty of cores to be recovered by the enemy. And perhaps, under the old rules of war, that could have been tolerated. Not ideal, but tolerable.

Because by conventional logic, airship hulls were only less valuable than cores when you were at peace. During a war, a core without an airship was little more than an expensive paperweight. Or at least, that was the case until a month ago, she thought. Shriekers had changed the equation. The new banes of her existence could be produced far more quickly than airships. Every core the South recovered here was another potential Super-Shard that would return to chip away at a Northern flotilla in less than a week.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. A situation made worse by the fact she had just lost her best immediate counter to them. As a result, the North could not afford to back down now. They had to keep feeding ships into the grinder - exactly as the South intended - and in doing so they were being systematically defeated in detail. Well done, Tyana, you bitch, she thought. You baited this trap perfectly.

Elanor felt every one of her years as she watched the distant flashes of the ongoing battle through a viewing orb, as a trio of shards slammed a half-dozen fire-lances into one of her ships. A squadron of Northern shards nearby attempted to avenge the craft, even as it started to list, but the super-shards simply pulled away. … Though that wasn't to say it was going entirely the South's way.

For all that they were winning, it was far from bloodless, as Elanor watched a flaming ship carrying the colors of the Royal Navy slam down into a nearby field – nearly clipping another wreck in the process. Through the orb, she could see that the fields below were strewn liberally with shards and ships alike – serving as complications, threats, and objectives for the many ground-based troops fighting there.

Some of those ships that still had their cores were even being used as impromptu forts, their aether cannons still functional even if the ship carrying them was 'dead'. No, she didn't envy anyone down there. Though being up here is hardly a picnic either, she thought. To that end, it was probably well past time to bring an end to this mess. The backlog of repairs from this single engagement would likely stretch into years as it was.

And as a result, the longer it dragged on, the more likely a mainland invasion turned from a distant possibility into an almost inevitable consequence. And the Royalists knew it too. Perhaps they'd win if this state of affairs continued. Perhaps not. Tyana's objective was a defeat in detail, but that required that she destroy Northern ships as fast or faster than they were arriving. And while she was winning, she was still taking losses.

The longer this dragged on, the greater the possibility was that the tide might turn against her and the South. Oh, they'd demand some kind of concession for sure, given they were the 'winners' right now, but they could only push so far.

"Orb the enemy flagship," Elanor informed the communications officer.

"And forward it to my private orb." The officer hesitated for half a heartbeat before obeying, but soon enough the orb in front of Elanor switched from a view of the ongoing battle to the familiar features of the royal princess, who was smiling like a woman who had already won.

"Oh, it's you?" Tyana said.

"I had thought it was my cowardly cunt of a sister calling to beg for mercy."

"She's back in the capital," Elanor lied without hesitation.

"And beg for mercy? I'll not deny that you've played an excellent hand, but this battle is far from decided." Tyana stared at her for a moment.

"If you truly believed that, you wouldn't be orbing me." Elanor scoffed.

"I'll admit you surprised me with this sudden show of backbone instead of the usual running. But this has started to escalate beyond what is good for either side. There's a reason I've not simply flown out to your newest hidey-hole and blown you and your mother to the void. Because this war needs to stay low intensity. And this is far from it. Right now, because of you, we're both stuck in a death spiral. And if we stay here, we'll both lose."

Tyana's expression sobered slightly, though the underlying satisfaction remained.

"I'll admit there's some truth to that. To that end, if you choose to leave the field, I will let you go." Elanor's scowl deepened.

"And what of the battlefield salvage?"

"What of it?" Tyana asked.

"You may quit the field with whatever you're currently carrying. Anything else is mine."

"Not going to happen." Elanor leaned closer to the orb, her expression hardening.

"We will be claiming a forty percent ratio of any cores recovered from the field." Fifty percent would have been the logical opening position in other circumstances. It would have given her room to negotiate downward while still leaving her a chance of securing something approaching a fair division. But she was not about to kid herself that she still held that kind of leverage. Tyana had the initiative here. More importantly, she knew it.

"You may retain twenty percent of the unrecovered cores," Tyana replied without missing a beat.

"What?" Elanor actually blinked. She had expected thirty at the absolute lowest, and she had not planned on settling for anything under thirty-five. Twenty percent was not an offer.

"You're joking."

"Not even remotely." Tyana settled back into her command throne.

"If anything, you should be thankful that I'm offering anything at all to a batch of traitors." She paused.

"Though on that front, I find it curious that your fellow conspirator isn't joining us?" Her eyes narrowed slightly.

"Is she shy? Or are you talking with me behind her back?" The second for sure. If New Haven got involved in this conversation, the negotiations would be fire-lanced immediately. The Duchess Faline and her people had been pushing for a stand-up fight like this for weeks and wouldn't give it up easily. Any warnings Elanor gave about the possibility of a mainland invasion seemed to continuously fall on deaf ears.

And as much as she wanted to claim the arrogant elves were just tunnel visioning – she was slowly coming to suspect something altogether more foul with each passing week. For the moment, it was little more than a suspicion, but… it was a persistent one.

"She's little to no interest in negotiating at this juncture," Elanor said more or less truthfully.

"She wishes to see this fight through to its conclusion. She believes that with enough time we might reverse the current tide of battle." The Blackstone duchess resisted the urge to smile as for the first time, a hit of hesitation entered the princess's eyes.

"I don't disagree," the human continued.

"However, as I've said, my preference is to err on the side of caution where our overseas neighbors are concerned. My hope is that if I present her with a reasonable offer regarding our retreat, she will take it." She had better. Otherwise the knife-ear would find herself facing the Royal Navy alone. … Or at least, Elanor would threaten as much. Because that threat had served well enough thus far.

Though whether it would continue to do so now that other woman had her battle in front of her was another question entirely.

"To that end," she continued.

"I doubt she will accept retreating with anything less than forty percent of the cores slated for recovery." She could see the other woman hesitating, and capitalized on it.

"And given that most of those cores were Northern to begin with, such a deal already favors you considerably." Tyana hesitated, before her expression went blank.

"Well, if she'll accept nothing less than forty, then I suppose we keep fighting. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a fleet to command." Elanor could barely believe her ears, but she rallied by rolling her eyes.

"Please. Spare me the theatre. I know you have the same concerns as I regarding pitched engagements. I sincerely doubt you're willing to risk a mainland invasion over a few cores. And that is exactly what you will get if we allow this to continue." She expected that to strike home. Instead, she was surprised when the younger woman simply shrugged.

"Do I share the same concerns as you? I don't know. If I did, I wouldn't have started this fight, would I?"

"Really?" Elanor said coldly.

"You would see Lindholm conquered and dragged into the mainland's religious war just to spite us?"

"I would." Her voice was quieter when she continued.

"Certainly, if either the Solites or Lunites invade, my family will likely go to the block. Being a bloodline of 'traitors', but that will happen anyway if you and your ilk are victorious." Elanor shook her head.

"Our new Queen might offer lenience to some of her younger siblings." Tyana continued as if she hadn't spoke.

"So, on that front, if I must choose between two fae, I'd sooner the side that benefits my people the most. And for most elves, I think their lives would be downright improved under mainland rule - provided they pay lip service to whatever goddess the winning side prefers." That was… not entirely unlikely. At one point in time, the Solites and Lunites had wanted to reclaim Lindholm out of national pride and as a bid to achieve more legitimacy as the 'true inheritors' of the Elven Imperium.

That was hundreds of years ago though. These days? The majority of the mainland interest in Lindholm was born from a desire for resources and manpower. A millennium long conflict tended to do that, and elves didn't exactly breed fast at the best of times. Even if the 'war' had a tendency to sometimes go entire generations with little in the way of actual conflict, the fact remained that both sides of the fight were in desperate need of fresh bodies and ships for them to occupy.

More to the point, while the Imperial Civil Wars were often described as a racial war, in reality they were more religious than anything else Sure, the Lunites were predominantly dark elves, but high elves lived among them as well. And the Solites were mostly high elves, yet dark elves could be found within their territories too. Both sides included wood elves too. Yes, the minority groups were still generally considered 'lesser' – but that still placed them above humans and orcs.

And that distinction mattered, because while Lindholm itself kept no human slaves, the mainland did. Orcs and humans both were shipped to the mainland during the initial invasion of Lindholm and colonies still survived there under the elven mistresses. … Ironically, little would change for the few dwarves who lived in Lindholm. They weren't slaves in either region, but neither were they nobles.

Their people held authority only in their distant homelands, and even there the two dwarven kingdoms existed largely as vassal states beneath the influence of the two great elven empires. So Tyana wasn't wrong. If the mainland conquered Lindholm, thousands of elven high and low nobles might well find their lives improved. … And Elanor almost wanted to call Tyana a traitor for the ease with which she considered that preferable to a Northern victory. She wasn't quite that hypocritical.

Though this exchange only reinforced why she had been right to rebel in the first place. Elves would always look after their own first. And humanity needed to do the same.

"Thirty percent," she said through gritted teeth. Tyana's smirk returned.

"Twenty five."

"Deal," Elanor sighed.

"Give me twenty minutes to talk to Faline. Then I'll orb you again to talk about a ceasefire." Tyana just nodded, looking all too pleased.

"Please, don't hurry on my account. The longer you take, the more ships I destroy. The more cores I fly away with." Elanor didn't deign that with a response. She just cut the link. She remained seated in silence for a long moment, staring at the empty crystal. The battle hadn't stopped while they'd been talking. Her people were well drilled enough to operate without her oversight for a few minutes.

Indeed, her comms officers were rattling off a steady stream of orders to the other ships under the direction of her XO. It was funny, with the core off, the battle seemed like… such a distant thing. Which she supposed it was, given the Brimstone's location. Out of sight. For a moment, she felt the exhaustion of nearly forty eight full hours of combat washing over her.

"Comms, get me the New Haven Flagship." She banished the tiredness she felt. She needed to remain sharp just a little longer. Because this next talk would be no less taxing than the one she'd just had. Because how her fellow conspirator responded to this offer would likely serve to inform the human woman whether her growing suspicions had any basis in reality. And whether they really were unconventional allies in a war against soft-hearted tyranny – or if she'd been played for a fool?

Because if the latter was the case… Well, perhaps it was for the best that Tala headed back home, she thought. The Blackstone line would survive – one way or another.